


Salted Wounds

by DragonDancer5150



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Horror, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonDancer5150/pseuds/DragonDancer5150
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that, on Halloween night, the Veil is thin and the ghosts come out to haunt the living. The Autobots, and Fanzone with them, learn just how thin that Veil can be. Transformers Animated continuity. COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: This was written for "The Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon of 2015" on Dreamwidth. I chose Transformers Animated, my prompt monster was Ghost, and I managed to work in both prompt images, which I'm really happy for! Spoiler warning up to about mid-Season 3, this is set sometime shortly before "Human Error", and is in part my take on why the Autobots never told Sari about the elevator shaft.
> 
> Disclaimer - "Transformers" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Hasbro, Takara, and any other related owners/distributors/producers. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

Optimus Prime shut off his computer, glanced briefly around his room - a semi-conscious habit, making sure all was in place as it should be - and crossed to his stasis berth. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet, but he felt extraordinarily exhausted.

Movement in the rafters above him caught his attention, something swaying in the gentle air currents. Even though Sari didn't live with them full-time anymore, since her father had been recovered from Megatron, she still stayed over on occasion. They ran the building's heating and AC as needed for her comfort. Strange, though . . . it wasn't running at the moment. Optimus sat up and sharpened his optical focus on the bit of motion above him . . . and felt himself flinch when he recognized what he was looking at. He frowned.

A cobweb.

He ran a hand over his face. It had been a stellar cycle ago - exactly one stellar cycle tonight - that he had learned that his old friend had survived that fateful excursion to Archa-7, reincarnated as a techno-organic calling herself Blackarachnia. Even knowing now that she was alive, to this day he still had occasional nightmares about that trip and about spiders in general. Thankfully, this time around, neither Sari nor any of his team had teased him or otherwise commented much when he'd declined again to participate as the humans of Detroit prepared to celebrate their favorite spooky holiday, Halloween. Part of him was glad that it had finally come, though. Maybe after tonight, he'd not have to try to recharge with the television down the hall blaring threatening music and the occasional screams of whatever horror movie Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Sari were watching.

He was just laying back down when he froze at the sensation of a sudden chill passing over him, carrying with it an uncomfortable energy signature, one he couldn't place. It left him feeling even more drained, like something had sucked power from him. He cast about his room but could see nothing out of the ordinary. He was just starting to shift off his berth to investigate further when he heard the machinery in the main room of the factory creak and rumble to life, followed a second later by twin shrieks. On his feet in a spark's pulse, he threw himself out of his room into the hallway. "Bumblebee!? _Sari!_ "

He nearly crashed into Ratchet, the medic backpedaling with a low curse. Optimus caught himself on Ratchet's shoulder, then turned at the thunder of heavy footsteps heralding Bulkhead as well as Prowl emerging from their own rooms at the other end of the hall. Bulkhead's optics were overly bright in the darkness. "Boss-bot! That sounds like the assembly mach-"

"I know. Come on!" Optimus led the way onto the assembly room floor.

The four Autobots pulled up short at the sight of everything in the room running without actually doing anything. The last time the derelict plant had gone haywire, the collection of abandoned equipment had turned into a veritable deathtrap. But now, no rivet guns shot at them, no lasers cut along the floor, and the crushing machine was still. Sari had been picked up by a grabber arm, and Bumblebee hung rather unceremoniously by his skidplate stuck to the lift surface of the electromagnetic crane, but both machines were motionless, merely holding the two in place.

"Let me go, you mechanical menace!" Sari struggled against the clamp, deploying both energy blades, but with her arms trapped at her sides, she couldn't quite reach anything to cut herself free.

Bumblebee spotted them just then, his optics dilated and overbright with alarm. "Uh . . . a-a little help, guys? Yaaah!" He yelped, and Sari with him, as the machinery throughout the room suddenly went dead, dropping Autobot and techno-organic alike.

Optimus darted forward, catching both of them. Before he could ask what had happened, though, Ratchet was grousing. "Sari! How many times have I told you not to mess with-"

"It wasn't me!" Sari protested. "I don't have the Key anymore, remember? And even with it, I couldn't control _everything_ in the room like that! Besides, I wasn't anywhere near it."

"Yeah! Me and Sari were clear over in the corner there, playing-" Bumblebee cut himself off with a sudden, strangled squeak, giving his commander a chagrined look.

Optimus frowned. "Video games," he finished. "Instead of watching the security monitors like you're supposed to be. Again." Bumblebee didn't even bother trying to defend himself, knowing it was futile. He just ducked his head and looked away, tapping his fingers together. Optimus shook his head. "Everyone, look around, see if there's another of those pocket-bots or something else that could have been behind-"

"Uh, B-boss-bot…?"

Something in the apprehensive tone of Bulkhead's voice ran Optimus's oil cold in his fuel lines. The massive construction-bot stood with Prowl over by the television. The set of Prowl's shoulders betrayed a keen level of alarm in the ninja-bot as well, though his voice was calm.

"Prime, you should come see this."

Optimus approached to the back of the concrete couch, frowning. "See what?"

Prowl seemed to realize that he and Bulkhead were blocking the TV. He sidestepped, motioning for Bulkhead to mirror him. The two parted, and Optimus caught sight of wetness on the TV's surface, catching the light with a deep red sheen against the black of the screen. Switching scanners, he looked again and realized there was something viscous painted there. It spelled a word, 'police', the lower edges of the letters dripping slowly down the glass.

Prowl's tone was wry on the surface but tighter than normal. "That couldn't have been there a moment ago. I'm sure they would have noticed." He nodded to indicate his younger teammate and their friend.

Bumblebee shrugged. "The TV and game console both went dead only a nano-klik before everything else went 'alive'."

Optimus shifted around the couch for a closer look, Bumblebee and Sari on his heels. Approaching from the other side, Ratchet slid his monocle scanner down over his right optic for a better look. Almost instantly, he bucked back. "It's blood!"

"That wasn't me either," Sari asserted in a tremulous voice.

Ratchet turned to Optimus. "Commander, you'd better call-" He flinched visibly, cutting himself off to glance around. "Did you feel that?"

Optimus did a second later, the same chill energy he'd felt in his room. He watched the rest of the team shiver and cast around in similar response. Burying a growing dread, he reached up to click his comm on.

"Detroit PD. You've reached Dispatch. What is your emergency?"

"Yes, hello. This is Optimus Prime of the Autobots. I know he's not on shift tonight, but please help me get in contact with Captain Fanzone."

****************************************************************

The last thing Carmine Fanzone had expected when he'd gone to sleep that night was to be awakened by a rock through the window behind the headboard of his bed. Startled awake, he sat up, glancing first at his wife Althea to make sure she was all right, then shifting around and up to his knees to look out the window, annoyed that the curtains were open as well. "Who's ther-AH!"

He startled back at the sight of a ghost manifesting just inches from the other side of the broken glass, a young girl with wide, frightened eyes, her hair flowing around her as if she were underwater. The girl reached through the hole to grab his arm, tugging insistently as if trying to get him to follow her through the window.

"Wha-Leggo! What are you-"

More hands grabbed him, tugging on his other arm and shoulder. He jumped at a voice in his ear. "Carmine? Honey, wake up!"

Fanzone startled awake - again? - and looked around. He was still lying in bed, his wife next to him propped up on an elbow as she shook him awake with her other hand. Her eyes were wide in the dim light peeking in between the pulled curtains. "Althea?" He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling drained and chilled to the bone even with the heavy covers still pulled up over him. "Wha-what happened?"

"You were having a nightmare. I woke up and you were thrashing and moaning." She cocked her head at him, frowning in concern. "Who's Ariel?" At his confused look, she explained. "You were calling for her. You sounded scared."

It was Fanzone's turn to frown. Why did that name sound familiar? Why had the ghost in his dream _looked_ familiar? Slowly, the realization dawned on him. "That was her name . . . Ariel." He described his dream to Althea, and even as he did so, he remembered how he knew her. "Missing persons case that turned into a murder investigation. That was shortly before I moved from Homicide to Emergency Services. It's been . . . what's it been now? Twelve, thirteen years, but from what I understand, that case is still unsolved." He frowned again. "From the coroner's estimate, the kid had been killed on Halloween."

Althea shook her head. "Poor thing." Then she gave Fanzone a severe look. "I told you you've been working too hard, Carmine. First you start having nightmares about old cases, next you could develop heart problems or something from the stress."

Fanzone started to reassure her that he was fine, but his cell phone rang before he could say anything. With a groan, he rolled over and snatched the phone from his nightstand. He looked at the caller ID - it was Dispatch. He stabbed the 'Answer' button. "Fanzone. This had better be good."

"Captain Fanzone, this is Officer Manning. I'm sorry to disturb you at home, sir, but I got a call from Optimus Prime. He acknowledged that you're off-duty but asked for you specifically. Shall I put him through?"

Fanzone huffed and sat up. "Yeah, go ahead, Manning."


	2. Cursed

Optimus resisted pacing as he waited for Captain Fanzone to arrive. He couldn't explain why he was so on edge. It felt as if the very air in the building had changed. It was colder, much colder even considering Detroit's current weather. It was heavy and choking too, clogging his vents despite his diagnostic systems insisting there was nothing there. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to banish the tension from his struts and stepped over to Bulkhead at the main control console. "Anything?"

Bulkhead shook his head, attention glued to the monitors. "Nothin', Boss-bot. Sensors aren't pickin' anything up either."

"And no word yet from Prowl, Bumblebee, or Sari?"

"Nope, an' I don't wanna call 'em an' give their positions away in case of hostiles in the area."

"Good thinking, Bulkhead. Give them another ten cycles, but then I do want you to call if we haven't heard from them first."

"Sure thing."

Maybe it had been a mistake to split up the team, but something was going on and they needed to figure out what. While Ratchet made sure the medi-lab was prepped, Prowl scouted the exterior perimeter and Bumblebee and Sari checked out the upper floors of the building in case anyone might be hiding out up there.

Just then, the latter two strode into the main room, crossing to the communications area. Bumblebee shrugged. "All clear, Boss-bot. If there was anything up there, it's long gone now."

Sari jumped as her cell phone rang. She looked at it, then answered. "Hi, Dad."

Bumblebee snickered, whispering to Optimus. "She's got a comm now. How come he doesn't just call her on that?"

Optimus didn't know and wasn't about to speculate. He listened to her father's voice on the other end. "Sari, are you on your way home yet?"

Sari rolled her eyes. "Dad, it's fine. I'm with the Autobots."

"No, no, no, Sari! You know I don't like you out past eleven o'clock at night, especially not on Halloween."

"Dad! Come on! I-"

"Sari," Optimus interrupted, "you did promise him you'd be home. One thing about being an Autobot is keeping your word, even when you don't want to."

Sari heaved a sigh. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry, Dad. I'll be right there." She hung up and put away the phone with a disappointed look on her face.

"Want me to take you home?" Bumblebee offered.

"Nah, I'll be fine." She called up her armor, the skate wheels popping out from the soles of her shoes. "I'll make it before eleven, no problem. And if any ghouls or creepy-crawlies try to stop me?" She deployed both arm blades, swinging them around. "They'll be sorry!"

"Young-bots…" Ratchet shook his head at her as he returned from the medi-lab.

"Boss-bot, Captain Fanzone's here."

"Good. Let him in, Bulkhead."

Optimus crossed to the main roll-up door as it rose. He saw Fanzone turn and watch Sari as she skated past him, waving a quick salute in passing, and headed out to the sidewalk. Fanzone shook his head and stepped inside.

"I trust you found the place all right, Captain?" The Autobots' base was a secret location, but Optimus felt it was long past time anyway to share it with their friend and unofficial liaison with local law enforcement.

"Yeah." The human officer had an unreadable scowl on his face as he looked around the factory. "Know the place pretty well, actually."

Prowl returned from his patrol just then, slipping through the entryway before Bulkhead put the rolling door back down. "You do?" Then on reflex, he shuddered and looked around. "Did someone turn the AC on?"

"Uh-uh." Bulkhead shook his head. "It's weird, though. It's almost . . . oppressive, isn't it?"

Frowning, the ninja-bot nodded agreement.

Fanzone's own frown hadn't abated as his gaze took in one Autobot after another. "Lemme see this writing you mentioned."

********************

Fanzone followed the Autobots as they crossed the room to the living room area they'd set up in the back corner. The screen they used for a television was enormous, a scavenged monitor from old, abandoned Olympia Stadium, one of those massive ones they had above the seating to play live footage on so people higher up in the stands could better see the action going on below. The monitor was easily a good fifteen to twenty feet high and mounted another eight to ten feet off the floor. Fanzone could see something on the surface about halfway up the glass. "Prowl, give me a boost."

The ninja-bot obliged, lifting Fanzone to stand on his cupped hands as Fanzone studied the bloody writing. "The letters are too wide to have been drawn with someone's fingers. Not sprayed and doesn't really look done by a paintbrush or anything else either. You're sure this is blood? It looks too fresh. Should have dried by now, or at least started to."

"It's blood, Captain," Ratchet assured him. "I scanned it myself."

Fanzone stared at the still-very-wet letters, willing them to explain themselves. Finally, he shook his head. "Anyway, no human could have reached up this high, not without help. Not without someone noticing."

"So what you're saying is . . . what, exactly?" Bumblebee asked, sounding as if he thought Fanzone was intimating that maybe one of them had done it.

Fanzone couldn't deny that a small part of him suspected it, but . . . no. He knew these guys. They were good people. Good robots. Whatever. The only one he might have really suspected would be their youngest member. Bumblebee was a punk trouble-maker of sorts, but this wasn't his style. His kind of trouble ran more in line with speeding and street racing.

Which left Fanzone with only one other thought. One he didn't like at all.

He shifted to look around Prowl's arm at Optimus Prime. "You guys might want to sit down. This may take a bit to explain."

The Autobots settled on "furniture" cobbled together from concrete slabs and giant tractor tires, and he stood facing them on what passed for a Cybertronian-sized coffee table.

"All right, a little history lesson on your 'Home Sweet Home' here. The automobile manufacturer that built this factory was the last company to successfully run a business on this plot of land. Nobody's been able to be successful here for more than a few years at a time. Most went under."

"Went under what?"

Fanzone pinned a look on Bulkhead and had to remind himself that there would probably always be some phrases the alien robots didn't seem to know. "It means to go out of business. Some were just outright abandoned. Pretty suddenly too. That's what happened with the car manufacturer."

Ratchet looked around, his tone dubious. "They just picked up and left? Why?"

"Always on or around Halloween too. Rumor has it, the land is cursed." Fanzone hoped they didn't put too much stock in the words. He sure didn't. But he didn't know what else to tell them. "Back in 1937, there was a salt mining company that operated on this site. Or under it, if you will. Story goes that a local Native American shaman had tried to warn them not to work this area, that they'd awaken a great evil. Claimed his ancestors had fought some kind of dark spirit until they were able to trap it and bury it deep in a cave in the same area the mining would take place."

"And something did happen, didn't it?" Prowl guessed.

Fanzone nodded. "Shortly after starting operations, ninety-one miners died under mysterious circumstances. Official records say they hit a big pocket of natural gas and died of hydrogen sulfide poisoning. The few survivors who managed to escape said it wasn't poison, and it wasn't natural. What it was, though, none of them would say. Whatever it was had them too terrified to speak of it."

"So, what, now it's haunted?" Bumblebee sounded incredulous, but his expression betrayed him. Then he gasped, full horror taking over his face and tone. "And we're sitting on the site of this? You mean our base is haunted?"

Ratchet growled at him. "Bumblebee, don't be ridiculous. Of course not. There's no such thing as-"

"Hello!" Bumblebee was insistent. "Unexplained cold, energy drops, oppressive feelings, machines running by themselves? Tell me those aren't signs of ghost activity." When the rest of the team just stared at him, he huffed. "Sari's told me all about it, and we've watched movies on the subject."

"Fantasies and sensationalism," Ratchet stated with a snort.

Fanzone agreed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something . . . something weird was going on here. That dream he'd had…

"Captain?"

Fanzone flinched a bit at Optimus's voice and found the whole team staring at him. "What?"

"What's an ariel?" Prowl wanted to know.

"Huh?"

"You said 'ariel'," Bulkhead clarified. "Kind of muttered it, actually."

Ratchet studied him. "You're looking a little pale, there, Captain."

"Captain Fanzone." Optimus seemed worried. "What's going on?"

Fanzone hesitated, then dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. "Ariel's not a what, but a who. Ariel Hugo. She was the subject of a missing persons case that turned into a murder investigation a number of years ago. Cause of death was never determined for certain. No suspects, and the murder site was never located for sure, but the body was found . . . " He nodded the group's attention behind them. " . . . laying in the middle of that circular panel in the floor over there." The one they'd painted that big, bright red Autobot sigil on.

Optimus shifted to look over his shoulder, then turned back with wide, bright optics. "She was found here?"

Bumblebee hugged himself. "Okay, that's just creepy. Oh! Guys, what if she's still here?"

What indeed, Fanzone thought, unable to put his nightmare out of his mind.

A blast of cold air, arctic-frigid and carrying an acrid scent of ozone, swept through the room just then, eliciting yelps of surprise from everyone. Fanzone shivered in the sudden chill and watched the Autobots shift and shudder. It struck him as strange, in that he didn't think robots felt cold like humans did. Or maybe it wasn't the temperature they were reacting to.

"Okay, that was definitely not the AC," Bulkhead asserted, his voice shaky.

Prowl frowned in thought. "Was hers the only incident, Captain?"

Fanzone reluctantly shook his head. He didn't want to read too much into things - maybe they were connected and maybe not. "Unfortunately, no. This isn't a great neighborhood to begin with, but . . . over the years, there have been a number of reports of missing persons. Most turn up sooner or later, some never have. Of those that turned up, most did so as dead bodies. Usually, cause of death could be determined, but . . . not always. Too many times for my liking, there's been something or other strange about how the person died."

Ratchet sat back, folding his arms. "I don't like this, Prime."

"I don’t either, Ratchet." To Fanzone, Optimus asked, "What do you think could be behind all of this?"

Besides something supernatural? Fanzone thought caustically. "My professional opinion? I don't know. A cult of some kind, maybe. Some yahoos descended from that shaman using mysterious herbs to poison sacrifices to 'appease the spirits', for all I know." He gestured air quotes with his fingers as he said it. "If that's the case, though, it'd be an unusual one, and being done by generations of people. Major instances seem to happen only once every thirteen years."

"Thirteen years." Fanzone heard Optimus's fans hitch as a thought occurred to him. "You said the original incident was in 1937? That was a hundred and sixty-nine years ago."

"Whoa!" Bulkhead looked at Optimus in shock as whatever it was apparently hit him too. "That's the square of thirteen!"

"Excuse me?" Fanzone wasn't following them.

Optimus explained. "One hundred and sixty-nine is thirteen times thirteen. And you said that ninety-one miners died in the original incident? That’s thirteen times seven."

"But wait," Bumblebee interjected. "Isn't seven supposed to be a lucky number?"

Prowl shrugged. "Apparently, their luck ran out."

"Be that as it may!" Ratchet interrupted, speaking forcefully to derail the conversation. "That's all in the past. What are we going to do about our situation here and now?"

Optimus stood, prompting his team to follow suite. "If Captain Fanzone is right and there is some kind of cult activity, we should try to find and put a stop to it."

"But where do we start?" Bulkhead wanted to know.

"The salt mine?" Prowl suggested. "That seems to be where this all started."

"Do you think the shaft still exists?" Bumblebee didn't look eager to find it.

"If it hasn't been paved over," Ratchet groused.

A sharp click cracked the silence, followed by the grinding of ancient gears.

"The Autobrand!" Bulkhead cried, pointing at the floor behind them.

Fanzone jumped the space between the coffee table and the couch, straining to pull himself up high enough to see over the back. Sure enough, that circular panel was dropping below floor level.

"Hey, maybe it's the mine shaft," Bumblebee suggested.

"Oh, like we should be so lucky!" Ratchet's voice was sharp with sarcasm, but his gaze was uncertain as he stared at the new hole in the floor.

"Everyone, hurry!" Optimus motioned the group to action before scooping up Fanzone into his arms, prompting a startled yelp. "We should see where it's going. It has to be connected to everything else going on."

Fanzone clung to Optimus's arm as, one by one, the Autobots jumped onto the descending platform.


	3. Darkness

To Optimus, the trip took too long, the light from the factory above shrinking to a pinpoint all too quickly. He turned on the lights on his shoulders. Just how far down did this elevator go? The increasing heaviness in the air meddled with his sensors too, his internal gyroscope tilting and swinging enough to threaten to knock him to his knees with vertigo. He looked down at Fanzone, sitting on his cradled hands. The man leaned back against his chest with a look on his face like he was sick to his stomach.

Apparently, Bulkhead suffered the same. "I-I feel like I'm gonna purge," he murmured.

Prowl grimaced, even as he leaned on the construction-bot as if for stability. "At least wait until we're off the elevator, Bulkhead."

Finally, they reached the bottom, and rusted-out gates shrieked in protest as gears and pulleys ground to pull them apart out of the way, revealing a long tunnel. Electric lights flickered to life as if in response, several bulbs snapping and blowing out here and there along the length.

"Optimus, you can put me down now." Fanzone sounded annoyed on the surface, but Optimus could hear the unease in the captain's voice. He obliged, but the human grabbed a finger for support for a moment before he properly gained his balance. Then, without waiting, he headed off down the tunnel. Optimus followed, waving for his team to do the same.

The tunnel opened into blackness that felt at once claustrophobic and cavernous. It was like being deep under Lake Eerie again. Optimus pulled a road flare from his on-board emergency kit, ignited it, and tossed it into the darkness. It skittered, bounced, and threw disturbing red light dancing across rock formations until it fetched up against the far wall. Optimus tossed two more, one to either side, and finally the group could make out the cave before them. Parts of it had been mined, the smooth, flat wall and floor sections showing white and grey striations that glowed eerily in the sputtering red glow. The rest was rough and uneven, like ground after a landslide. The walls especially looked like they'd been covered with soap foam that had frozen and hardened, and the salt deposits on the stalactites overhead resembled hoar frost. Optimus shook his head - the overall effect was creepy, to say the least.

Fanzone reached into a pocket in his trenchcoat and pulled out a flashlight. He flicked the switch but nothing happened. He growled. "Oh, don't you-…you have brand new batteries, you piece of junk. Will. You. Just. Wor-!" He beat the head of the flashlight into the palm of the other hand with each word, and on "work", it finally flared to life. Huffing, Fanzone started forward into the cavern, the flashlight trained down at his feet to help keep him from tripping as he turned off the smooth stone onto the broken ground beyond.

Optimus gestured. "Autobots, spread out. There must be something down here to give us a clue about what's going on." The others obeyed reluctantly.

He couldn't blame them. It was silent and still down here. 'Unnaturally so,' he wanted to think, even as he recognized that it made sense to be still and silent in a cave. He shut his optics for a moment, fighting suddenly to re-center himself, as he realized that he'd only ever been subterranean once before in his life. Was it his imagination, or was he starting to pick up scratching, clicking sounds just on the very edges of hearing?

Something touched his arm and he yelped, spinning around and only barely catching himself from sending Ratchet sprawling to the ground. "R-ratchet." He passed a hand over his optics, forcing himself to calm down. "I'm sorry. What is it?"

"You didn't hear me call you, Commander." It wasn't a question. The old medic studied him for a long moment, frowning, but then let it go. "Bumblebee found something. I thought you should come see."

"Does anyone else feel like we're bein' watched?"

"Bulkhead, that's not possible. We're the only ones down here." Fanzone sounded much more certain than he looked.

Ratchet was looking around, visibly braced. "Afraid I have to agree with Bulkhead on this one, Captain. I feel like we're . . . surrounded."

It was Optimus's turn to study, frowning in concern . . . and growing dread. As a veteran of the Great War, Ratchet would know better than any of them what it felt like to be surrounded. Optimus couldn't deny it any longer himself. He felt gazes on him from all around, and they didn't feel friendly.

"Boss-bot?" Bumblebee's voice quavered as he waved for Optimus's attention.

Fanzone joined Optimus by the young repair-bot's position. There was an alcove of sorts in the wall of the cavern, filled with salt crystals cradling a ceramic jar, the lid next to it and the jar itself tilted forward. Optimus crouched down to see better as Fanzone shone his flashlight inside.

"That's weird," Fanzone muttered. "Just looks like a stained strip of leather in there, with a piece of wood stuck through it." 

The police captain dug a pair of latex gloves from a pocket, pulled one on, and reached into the pot. Optimus felt the temperature drop lower, the oppression get more intense. A restlessness replaced the stillness in the air. Fanzone pulled out the strip of leather, half as wide as his palm and about twice as long. The leather was old and thin, cracking apart in Fanzone's hand. The wedge of wood fell free of its spot skewering the center of the dark stain.

A sudden howl shattered the silence, turning oppression to chaos. Optimus heard his team cry out in shock and pain even as he himself was thrown back and to the ground by some unseen force. Intense, unbridled malevolence washed over him and, for an instant, he feared Megatron had been killed and somehow come back for vengeance in pure spark form. But that wasn't possible . . . was it?

Suddenly, he was no longer in the cave but in a forest. A human dressed in leathers, with ruddy brown skin and long black hair, struggled with a dense black mass. The man turned and looked at him, shouting, "Pierce blood with winterberry. Hurry!" He gave a strangled cry as the shifting mass seemed to start gaining the upper hand.

Optimus cast about for something, anything, that he could use to help the human. His fingers closed on nothing more than dirt and pebbles, but he turned and threw them into the twisting blackness anyway. If he could just distract the entity, whatever it was, long enough for-

He flinched, gasping at a shriek of agony that threatened to short out his audio receptors. When he looked again, he was back in the cave, but the black mass still hung over him and his team.

"That's it!" he heard Fanzone cry from somewhere to his right. "Salt! Everyone, throw salt at it!"

Optimus looked, hand going to the spot on the ground from which he'd just pulled what he'd thought was soil or gravel. There was a section of salt deposits dug from the layers on the ground. Sitting up and twisting, he scraped two more handfuls and threw them at the mass. So did Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee. Fanzone lobbed loose crystals. Prowl used his jump jets to hop up and throw his shurikens, breaking salt-encrusted stalactites free to fall through the mass from above.

The entity roiled and writhed, its piercing wails echoing throughout the cavern and ringing everyone's hearing. Then it vanished. The sudden silence was almost as deafening as the noise had been.

"W-whoa." Bumblebee pulled himself shakily to his feet, one hand pressed to the side of his helm. "That was intense! Did anyone else just have a vision of a forest and-"

"Is it gone?" Bulkhead wanted to know. "Did we kill it?"

"Doubtful." Prowl clicked his shurikens back into place on his legs.

"First of all," Ratchet put in, "I don't think that thing was alive to begin with. And secondly, if it were that simple, I'm sure that shaman would have destroyed that . . . whatever-it-was way back when."

Not gone.

Not defeated.

Not dead.

Never alive to begin with.

Just regrouping.

Optimus felt more than heard the words, looking around for the source. Spotting it - them - he bolted to his feet with a harsh gasp, his plasma axe in hand almost before he was aware of pulling it from its casing on his back . . . even as he realized that it would probably do him no good at all.

They were surrounded. The Autobots and Fanzone shifted and gathered until they were huddled back to back, staring at the scores of intangible figures hovering, half-formed within drifting mists, all around them. A few still retained some measure of their appearances in life, but most were skeletal, with ragged clothes clinging to their bony frames, what hair was left to them hanging thin and limp from their skulls.

"Miners." Fanzone's voice was low and awed, staring at the ghostly skeletons. "Most of these guys look like they were miners."

Ratchet shook his head, still half in disbelief even as he gaped at what was right before his optics. "These must be all the victims that have died here over time."

One ghost separated from the rest to reach for Fanzone, a little girl looking so normal in comparison to her companions that Optimus thought she must have been among the most recently deceased.

Fanzone gasped, recoiling. "M-miss Hugo…"

Help us!

Free us!

The rest of the ghosts crowded closer too, desperate, frightened, in pain.

"How!?" Bumblebee yelled back, sounding like his nerves were shot.

Reset the trap.

Remake the spell.

Restore the binding.

"That container," Prowl murmured with dawning realization.

Ratchet nodded, his expression thoughtful. "When the mining operation started, someone must have found that jar, took off the lid, and freed the demon, or whatever it is."

"So how do we get it back in that jar?" Optimus had rarely felt as out of his element as he did right now. There wasn't anything in his Academy training or any other experience that came even close. He almost wished for those horrific spiders from Archa-7 again. Or even Decepticons. At least then he knew how to fight what he was facing.

"I have an idea." Prowl crouched down to Fanzone, holding out his hand. "Captain, your belt."

Fanzone gaped at him even as he seemed to try to ignore the little girl pressing to his side as if for comfort. "My what?"

"Please! Just hurry. Trust me."

Fanzone looked at him another moment . . . and did as asked. Prowl took the belt, sliced off a length of roughly a foot with the blade of a shuriken, then turned and bolted back down the corridor towards the shaft.

Bumblebee glared after him. "And just where in the name of the All-Spark is he going?"

"C'mon, Bumblebee," Bulkhead reassured him. "This is Prowl. If he thinks he's got an idea, it's probably a good one."

Optimus hoped Bulkhead was right.


	4. As a Team

The spirits shifted around them, impatient and fearful, as everyone waited for Prowl to return.

Don't want to hurt you.

Don't want to be hurt.

Master is demanding.

Master is angry.

Master is returning!

Prowl sped back down the hallway, but just as he passed the last of the bank of lightbulbs, a foul wind howled through the cavern, and something slammed into the ninjabot, smashing him into the far wall. Prowl fell heavily and didn't move.

NOOOOOOoooooooo!!!

The wails of the ghosts joined the raged snarling of the black mass, and they attacked. Intangible forces knocked Optimus to the ground once more, this time holding him there with impossibly cold grips. He felt his strength slowly seeping from him, siphoned by the spirits.

"H-hey! LEGGO!" Bumblebee's panicked cry echoed through the room under the cacophony of the dead, and Optimus knew his team wasn't faring any better than he was.

"B-Boss-bot! Heads up!"

Optimus twisted in time to see one of Bulkhead's wrecking balls slam through the stalactites directly overhead, breaking them free and raining rock and salt deposits down through the group of spirits holding him. The ghosts hissed and squealed in pain and dissipated from around him. Optimus sat up, spotting his teammate who'd already freed himself the same way. "Great thinking, Bulkhead!" Shifting to a knee, Optimus snatched up the axe he'd dropped, threw it into the cavern ceiling over Bumblebee, then turned and deployed a grappling claw to wrap itself around a stalactite over Ratchet, yanking back to snap the lower half free and rain salt and rock shards over the medic.

"Bumblebee!" Optimus yelled even as more spirits started to close around him again. "Time to put that speed of yours to use! Find the belt piece Prowl took. Get it into that-ACK!" Optimus's knees buckled as the ghosts bore down on him again.

He watched Bumblebee's expression shift from terrified to determined. He dove out from under the ghosts starting to press on him again, bolted for the mined section of the cavern, and crowed as the tires on the outsides of his ankles touched smooth floor. "Wheels on heels! Can't catch me now!"

The ghosts tried, but Bumblebee ducked, dodged, and wove between them, too fast and agile for them to properly get their icy hands on him. Optimus saw him snatch up the belt from under Prowl's hand and start back for the alcove, the malevolent mass screeching overhead. It clawed at Bumblebee, who bucked in pain as it left blistering marks in the yellow finish over his shoulders and down his back, but it didn’t seem able to affect him otherwise. Then it turned, as if changing tactics. Optimus sensed more than saw it "look" at Fanzone, whom Ratchet had just managed to free from his ghostly captors. It can't do much to an Autobot, Optimus thought in alarm, but it can affect a human.

Fanzone must have felt it too because he backpedaled into Ratchet with a cry, eyes wide as he stared in horror at the mass that began to float over to him, radiating malicious intent. He and Ratchet started throwing salt crystals, but the entity had gotten wise to that tactic, sections of vile fog merely parting to allow the crystals to pass harmlessly through without actually touching the mass.

"That's…not good," Ratchet muttered as he scooped up Fanzone and started retreating. The mass gathered itself, then dove at Fanzone.

A flash of white intercepted, putting itself between Fanzone and the entity and causing it to buck back in surprise. The ball of energy resolved itself into the little girl, Ariel Hugo, her arms thrown wide in a gesture of protection. The mass snarled and sent out a tendril of black fog ending in points like claws to slash through Ariel's ghostly form. She vanished with a scream.

Fanzone gasped in horror. "Ariel!"

"Got it!"

The mass had started for Fanzone again but shifted at Bumblebee's triumphant cry. He had the lidded jar in his hands. Howling in rage, it rushed the repair-bot.

Bumblebee shrieked in terror and dove out from under the mass's trajectory. "D-don't got it! YIKES!"

"Hey, ugly! Pick on someone your own size!"

The mass hesitated, hovering over Bumblebee who had curled up on the ground around the jar.

Bulkhead flung one of his wrecking balls into the collection of stalactites in the ceiling over Bumblebee and the alcove, raining salt and rock through the gathered cloud. There was too much dispersed volume for the entity to dodge, and it dissipated with a furious shriek under the assault. With that, the ghosts backed off again, seeming to curl in on themselves, huddling in fear and pain.

Optimus glanced up at the rest of the ceiling. "That tactic won't work for much longer. We'll run out of ceiling with salt deposits." He pulled himself to his feet once more, retrieving his axe as he approached to check on Bumblebee, battered and half buried by Bulkhead's attack.

"I-I'm okay. I'm all right." The repair-bot's voice was as shaky as the rest of him as Optimus and Bulkhead uncovered him and Ratchet took a quick look at his wounds. He held up the jar. Optimus noticed for the first time all the intricate symbols carefully painted around its belly - an element of the binding magic, perhaps. "I put the belt in the jar. Why didn't that work?"

"I don't know," Ratchet said, the tone of the growl in his voice one that he only got when he was truly worried, "but we'd best figure it out, quick. That thing will be back any nanoklik."

"The shaman or whoever that was in the vision said to pierce blood with winterberry." Optimus shook his head. "I just wish I knew what he meant by that."

"Well, I think we got the blood part covered." Bumblebee opened the jar and pulled the leather back out. It was smeared with something dark and wet. "I think it's the blood from the television."

Bulkhead nodded, glancing over at his teammate's unmoving form. "Trust the ninja-bot ta think of somethin' like that."

Optimus nodded as well. It was a brilliant move.

Fanzone came back from digging in the rubble at the foot of the alcove. "Winterberry is a species of tree." He held up the wedge of wood that had fallen out of the old piece of leather. "Also known as Michigan holly, an' dependin' on who you ask, holly is supposed ta be a magical wood, really powerful. If you believe in that kinda stuff." Which, from the look on his face as he gazed around the room at the milling ghosts, he was starting to.

Optimus looked at his team. "Ratchet, go check on Prowl. Bumblebee, Fanzone, you-!"

This time, even the ghosts had no warning as the malevolent entity blasted back into the cavern with the speed and strength of a hurricane, howling in rage. Optimus only just caught the sight of Bumblebee grabbing Fanzone as everyone, Autobots and ghosts alike, was picked up and scattered, flung to the far corners of the cavern. Optimus smashed hard into a wall, dropping heavily to the broken ground, and shuddered at the chill that penetrated him to the core as the spirits around and in him attempted to recover from the assault as well.

"Pierce blood with winterberry!" Fanzone's shout echoed through the chamber. Still dazed, Optimus looked up in time to see Fanzone, propped awkwardly in Bumblebee's lap where they'd both fallen, jam the piece of holly into the leather in Bumblebee's grip, wedging it securely through a belt notch in the middle of the smear. The blood began bubbling across the surface of the leather, causing both Bumblebee and Fanzone to shrink back in alarm.

The effect on the entity was immediate. It writhed and shrieked in the middle of the cavern, shoots and tendrils of blackness reaching out and pulling in as if confused and desperate with agony. All around the cavern, the spirits also twisted and shrieked, tortured by their master's struggle.

"Bumblebee," Optimus yelled, "get that thing in the jar! Now!"

Bumblebee peeled his attention from the horrors around him, fumbling for the jar. Miraculously, it had survived being flung into the rock wall next to him. He shoved the leather inside.

Impossibly, the shrieking rose another octave, splitting audios and eardrums alike. All the air in the cavern seem to be rushing into the pot, the force of it threatening to crush Bumblebee and Fanzone into the wall behind them. Bulkhead pulled himself over to them. "Bumblebee, give me the jar!"

Bumblebee managed to wrestle the jar over to press back against the palm of Bulkhead's clawed hand. The massive construction-bot could much better withstand the force of the vacuuming pot.

In the center of the cavern, tendrils of the mass clawed at air and ground trying to find purchase to anchor it against the pull of the jar but to no avail. Finally, it lost ground for good and was sucked into the jar, the force of that slamming Bulkhead's elbow into the wall behind him, breaking either the wall or the joint from the sound of it, and leaving a deep dent in his palm. Bumblebee scrambled to catch the jar as it fell, and Fanzone darted forward to clap the lid on top. In the sudden, deafening silence, the three looked at each other, then the pot, no one moving for a moment as they waited to see if it was really over this time.

Groaning, Optimus pulled himself up to his knees, swayed, and put a hand to the back of his head, his fingers coming away smeared with oil. Across from him, Ratchet lay still, while on the other side of the cavern, Prowl finally stirred.

The ninja-bot moaned as he pushed up off the ground. "W-what…what happened?" He gasped and bucked back as he spotted the ghosts all around him.

"Prowl, it's all right. It's . . . it's over." Optimus dragged himself the rest of the way to his feet and limped over to check on Ratchet. The medic still had his color, and he gasped in pain as Optimus rolled him gently over. He smiled in sympathy. "Still with us, Ratchet?"

The old medic peered up at him and managed a strained grin. "Can't get rid'a me that easy, Prime."

Optimus allowed a low chuckle. "Wouldn't dream of it." He helped Ratchet to his feet.

Bulkhead had managed to get to his feet as well, favoring his wounded arm, and moved over to help Prowl.

Bumblebee held the closed jar like he expected it to explode any second. "W-what do we do with this?"

"Bury it," Fanzone stated with a growl. "Stick it back in that damned alcove and collapse it. Bury it in so much salt nobody will ever find it again."

Here.

Here.

Over here.

Bury it here.

The ghosts had congregated in a corner, on the opposite side of the cavern from the tunnel, pointing at the ground.

Under.

Pocket.

Smash it open.

The ghosts hadn't led them wrong yet, not of their own volition, so Optimus retrieved his axe once more and headed over to join them. He started hacking at the rock and salt crystals where indicated. After three swings, a whole section of the floor caved in, revealing a deep pocket thick with salt crystals. "Bumblebee." Optimus waved the repair-bot to him.

Bumblebee darted over and carefully set the jar into the pocket. Then Fanzone and the Autobots swept the entire cavern, gathering as much salt debris as they could to pile into and on top of the hole, followed by Bulkhead using the wrecking ball of his working arm to knock down parts of the ceiling to further bury everything.

The spirits watched silently as the Autobots finished their work. Finally, Optimus turned to them. He gave them a gentle, reassuring smile. "Go. You're free now. That thing can't hurt or hold you any longer."

Glazed eyes and empty eye sockets gazed back all around him. He could feel their gratitude and relief. One by one, then in pairs and groups, the spirits faded into the ether until only one was left.

"Ariel," Fanzone murmured, dropping to a knee to face the child spirit at her own eye level.

The little girl bore a ragged gash across her dress where the entity struck her, but she smiled brightly and darted to Fanzone, throwing her arms around him. Optimus saw him shiver with the cold of her touch, even as he brought up his arms to try to hug her back. Then she was gone, and Optimus saw tears on the police captain's cheeks as his head dropped for a moment, hands over his face. Ratchet stooped to lay an understanding hand on his back.

Optimus took in the sight of his team, battered and wounded. "Autobots . . . let's go home."


	5. Recovery

"So, ah, how about we never do that again, huh? Everyone good with that?"

Fanzone looked up at Bumblebee's comment, then around the room at the others. They were in the medi-lab. Bumblebee had bandaging on to cover his burns until Ratchet could address them. Bulkhead's arm was in a sling to take the weight off his broken elbow. Prowl rested on one of the repair berths while Ratchet sat on the other, walking Optimus through repairing the back of his shoulder since the medic couldn't reach it himself. He needed his arm working before he could properly see to any of the others. Fanzone himself had gone out to his car to get his first aid kit and currently sat on the berth next to Ratchet, wrapping a wrist he'd not realized he had injured until the adrenaline had started to wear off. He just hoped he'd strained and not broken it. He wouldn't know for sure until he got to a hospital to have it looked at, but that could wait. The police officer and civil servant in him wouldn't let him leave until he knew this situation was done with . . . and that the robots would be all right.

"Anyone who's not good with that," Ratchet groused, "can take a wrench to the side of the helm to straighten out an obviously glitching processor."

"What're we gonna tell Sari?" Bulkhead wanted to know.

It was going on one o'clock in the morning. Everyone was exhausted and injured, and Fanzone didn't figure Ratchet would get all the damage dealt with before morning. No doubt, Sari would be back over first thing. They'd have to tell her something.

Prowl chuckled, his tone wry and pained. "Perhaps we should tell her it was a Decepticon."

Fanzone watched Optimus grimace and thought he could guess why. The repair crew's commander didn't like lying or hiding things from friends and allies. Finished with his wrist, Fanzone folded his arms. "Well, whatever you guys decide to tell her, may I suggest leavin' out the elevator an' the fact you've got an old mine right under your base?" When the Autobots looked at him in question, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them. "C'mon, you've been around her long enough. What kid wouldn't jump at the chance to go explorin' in an abandoned mine? It'd be such a 'great adventure'!" He put air quotes around that with his fingers in case the alien robots missed the sarcasm in his tone.

Optimus paused from his work to look around at his team, settling especially on Bumblebee. "Captain Fanzone's right. We don't need to worry about Sari going down there and getting hurt, or risk her somehow uncovering that jar and starting things all over again."

Bumblebee's optics were wide and bright. "What are you lookin' at me for, Boss-bot? Auto-scouts' honor, if she learns a nano-bit about the mine or that demon, it sure won't be from me!" He held up a hand in oath, and Fanzone found that he believed him. The young repair-bot still seemed genuinely traumatized himself by what they had just been through.

"Me neither, Boss-bot," Bulkhead added. "I know Sari. She'd want to go see for herself, and she'd be upset that she got left out of the fun."

Optimus nodded, then looked at Fanzone. "Captain, I've been meaning to ask. How did you know about the salt working on that entity? I wasn't aware you had any expertise in - " He seemed to search for the right word. " - supernatural things."

Fanzone felt his face flush a bit. "Oh, I, ah . . . I don't. An' ta be honest with you, I didn't know for sure if it would. But it seemed like the kind of thing that'd work." Somewhat under his breath, he added, "Always did in the stories."

Ratchet gave him a sidelong look. "Come again, Captain?"

Fanzone sighed. "When I was a kid, I loved ghost stories and other supernatural stuff. I was also a big fan of an old comic called Hellboy, the 'world's greatest paranormal investigator'." He grinned in spite of himself, remembering fondly. "At one point, I wanted ta grow up to be just like Hellboy, so I learned what I could find on wards and amulets and things like that. Salt as a protective agent against evil and the supernatural in general is right out of a lot of ancient folklore. Seems that's one thing that's more fact than fiction."

"Lucky for us," Prowl murmured.

"Yeah." Fanzone closed his first aid kit, stood, and looked up at Optimus. "Prime, gimme a hand down? I should head home an' let my wife know I'm still alive an' kickin'."

"Of course, Captain." Optimus offered a hand. Fanzone stepped on and was lowered to the ground. As he stepped back off, Optimus added, "Give our regards to your wife."

"I will. Might bring her by one of these days, if that's all right. Althea'd like you guys."

Optimus grinned. "We'd be honored. Good night, Captain Fanzone."

"G'night, Prime. Autobots." He turned and headed for the front door, listening to Optimus insist that everyone go to berth for now, get a good night's rest, and let Ratchet see to them all in the morning. He thought that sounded like great advice. In fact, he had every intention of following it himself.

********************

Only once everyone had left the room did a small robot come out of hiding.

A Soundwave toy ambled its way from the medi-lab, down the hall, and out into the main room, looking for the elevator. Its master had overheard the conversation earlier and, while the master had no interest in murders or cults, he was very interested in the idea of a space right under the Autobots' noses. 

So they had no intention of going back down there again, hm? Then it would make for the perfect location for his own secret base.


End file.
